Of Death and Designer Shirts
by QueenofArkansas
Summary: Hans Gruber's wife's experience of Christmas eve. This may or may not be continued in more chapters, but I think it sort of works with just the one. I was stuck for title ideas.


Elizabeth Gruber's eyes twinkled as she heard the door shut over the sound of the television at 1:04 in the morning. She undid another button at the top of the pinstripe shirt that she was wearing as pyjamas and turned the volume down a little, enough to hear him place his handgun gently on the mantelpiece as he walked in.

"Nice day at the office, dear?" she asked, a grin on her lips.

"Indeed." was his satisfying reply, as he threw a suitcase onto the sofa next to her. She lifted it and put it back.

"2K?" she said with wide, curious eyes.

"A little less." Hans removed the suitcase and put himself in its place, his polished suit showing no signs of the night's work. He wasn't even breathing heavily. He turned to her and kissed her neck and laughed. Elizabeth was puzzled

"What?" She felt his fingers near the back of her neck, inside the collar or the large shirt.

"Just as I thought." he sat back and looked at her, an amused expression on his face, "Is Henry Lloyd really for wearing to bed?" he chuckled.

"Is now." Elizabeth smirked, "I thought I would be indulgent in my choice of pyjamas. We have money to spare, don't we?"

"It's not all so that you can buy yourself nice things you know." Hans smiled and sat up to look at her.

"Then what's the rest for?" Elizabeth purred as Hans kissed her.

"So that I can buy you nice things."

"Oh, well that's good then."

"I still don't know what I think of you wearing _my _shirt to bed..." he said, having just noticed. He gave her arm a pinch and she laughed.

"What are you going to do about it?" She shoved his shoulder. Hans' eyes sparkled mischievously and his hands started to undo the buttons one by one.

"Aaah." Elizabeth said, though she knew that it had been inevitable. Her phone rang and Hans groaned as she went to pick it up, the shirt hanging from her shoulders.

"Just in time. You know, I'm sure I'm much busier than you are and yet you are the one who gets all the phone calls." he mumbled. Elizabeth pressed a finger to his lips.

"Jennifer, why are you calling me now?" Hans turned her hand over as she talked and silently kissed her wrist. Jennifer was Elizabeth's best friend, and head of a team of police detectives working to  
catch a strong group of European thieves... Hans' thieves. He knew the importance of silence when she called. Jennifer's rambling apology came down the line as she realised once again that they were in different time zones.

"It's alright Jen. Listen. Could you possibly ring in about 7 or 8 hours? It's just then it'll be about half 8 in the morning and not half 1. Thanks babe, bye." She put the phone down on the coffee table that she had had her feet up on, and Hans took it and turned it off, placing it on the arm on his side of the sofa. She was about to complain but saw the sense and kissed him again as she leaned back against the firm leather of the sofa. Hans changed the channel from the news and flicked through programmes, he stopped on a channel showing an old black and white film. The crackly old music made him smile and Elizabeth hugged close to him as they watched the rest of the film.

"What shall we spend this on then I wonder?" she said with a smile, nudging the suitcase with her bare foot.  
"How about a Versace shirt this time?"

2 Months Later

Elizabeth sat with her feet up watching the news in her hotel room in the very early morning on the 25th December. She looked anxiously at the clock on the wall. He was taking much, much longer than usual. She poured herself a fifth glass of wine, from the bottle that was meant to be saved and shared that night, and took a shaky sip. Nothing ever went wrong. She told herself that he had probably just had a few minor setbacks, probably Karl's fault - he was always kicking off - and settled back into the cushions. Her phone rang.

"Jennifer, you do know that it's about 3 in the morning, right?"

"I do! I do! I know, but just flick onto the news! Seriously!"

"I'm watching the news..."

"KFLW?"

"No..."

"KFLW! KFLW NOW!" Elizabeth scrambled for the remote

"Alright, alright! Geez!" She pressed the button and could hear Jennifer's excited breathing on the phone.

"What is this?" she asked as the channel showed what appeared to be a half destroyed building on the screen.

"Just keep watching." Elizabeth did as she was told. The camera was on a man in a suit. The reporter asked if he could "confirm it". Elizabeth sighed.

"Confirm what?" she mouthed to herself.

"Yes," said the man in the suit, "Hans Gruber is dead." Elizabeth dropped the phone in time for Jennifer to start chattering away on the other line. She could swear she felt the world outside of this room fall away. The reporter kept talking, Jennifer kept talking, but Elizabeth wished for silence. She didn't understand. Nothing EVER went wrong. He promised her... He promised her he would always  
come home.

"Elizabeth? You there?" Elizabeth picked up the phone and pulled herself together.

"Yeah, yeah." Her voice croaked a little and she wiped a tear that had escaped from the clutches of her eyelashes. Jennifer continued, oblivious.

"I mean, it's not as good as catching him and his team, and I'm sure some people would see it as a tragedy," Elizabeth breathed in, struggling to remain calm, "But it's one less villain, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Jennifer," Elizabeth put a smile in her voice, "Listen, it's great that you have less work to do now, but I'm so tired, can I call you later?"

"Sure. Bye!" Jennifer hung up first, chipper as anything. Elizabeth dropped the phone again onto the sofa and fell to pieces. She heard the reporter, still going on and grabbed for the remote to turn him off, turn the world off, but she stopped. A man was on the screen, bloody, dirty and covered with a fireman's coat. John McClane, the TV said his name was, and from the words that were coming from the reporter, he was man of the hour, the one who had defeated the team of 'terrorists'. Elizabeth shrieked and threw the remote at the screen, smashing it. She shook violently with sobs and her vision clouded, stumbling to the bathroom. She cleaned herself up, wiping ferociously at her face. Her eyes were red. She pressed her forehead against the cold mirror glass, her heavy breaths steaming up her reflection. She raised a finger and wrote in the mist.

"John McClane." She said the cursed name as she spelled it out, and then viciously swiped at it, removing it from the glass. She straightened herself and crawled to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed into a fresh fit of despairing sobs to replace the one that she had just cleaned from her face. She was spread across the queen-size bed that they had picked out, sharing the space with the bundle of presents that she had gathered for him, looking pitiful and mirthless with no future and no one to open them. He had told her that this time he would bring her a Christmas present like never before. She kicked them carelessly off the bed, having lost all their worth and lay on her back, imagining him coming home, grinning and showing her her great surprise and then she would give him his present and then he would take them from the bed, place them delicately in the corner and kiss her, passionately, like he always did, the night having been victorious once again. Her whole body shook with the shock and the cruelty and the fits of tears and occasional rage, until finally she fell asleep exhausted, never to wake to Hans again. That night, she dreamt of John McClane, and woke inspired. He would pay. She would be the new one to be hunted by Jennifer. She would take his place. And she would only die once John McClane died, with him if necessary. She dressed silently, decisively; putting on a pinstriped Henry Lloyd shirt and a belt to hug her waist. She did the buttons forcefully and grabbed a bank card from the bedside and shoved it into her jacket pocket. She left the room with a suitcase in one hand, her other putting her mobile phone, off, into her pocket. She had no one to ring at this time. No one who would ring her. No one to comfort her but revenge.


End file.
